


Skittish

by sasha_b



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Arthur is silly, Comment Fic, Lancelot is Lancelot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 06:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: The knights camp.  Lancelot is bored.





	Skittish

**Author's Note:**

> Comment fic prompt: Any, any m/m, No Sex Please, We’re Skittish (Frasier)

"No."

"Really?" 

"Right now is not the best time. Honestly."

"But," Lancelot's mouth twisted in wry humor before it touched Arthur's throat, _again_ , "I'm here, now. I think it's the perfect time." He shifted, his armor impeding him, and as he cursed at it, attempting to unlace the old, worn, salt stiffened leather ties at the side of his cuirass, Arthur stood, and unceremoniously dumped him on his ass.

"You fucker," Lancelot spit from his unexpected seat on the ground. Arthur, whose countenance was normally one of _dead serious_ and _to hell with your jokes, Lancelot_ smiled brightly and crossed his arms, the fire from their campsite reflecting off his shiny vambraces. "Not right now, no," he replied. "As I said, you have incredibly bad timing." He stepped nimbly out of the way of Lancelot's questing, long fingers, and although his smile faded a bit as Lancelot rolled to his feet, it still decorated his stubbled face. "The men are not but fifty paces from here."

"They don't care," Lancelot shot back, checking the dagger in his boot, shifting the thing about, his groin about as uncomfortable as it could be. _Fucker._ "And if their opinions are the ones you're worried about, then, well." He snorted a breath out his nose, his ice coated hair shifting away from his slyly expressive face. "I'd say you were frigid, commander, but I can attest to that being a fallacy." He stalked toward Arthur, who gave him a look of alarm. 

"Hush, lieutenant," Arthur warned, but too late, as Lancelot was on him, no matter the closeness of the other knights, or the commander's worry at his reputation. 

A moment -

then -

"Alright, I concede. Your timing is perfect." A kiss, then another.

A laugh. "You started this."

The rest of Lancelot's words were muffled by the corner of the very bright red cloak Arthur covered Lancelot's very mobile and wanted mouth with.


End file.
